


Randomly

by SanadaSora



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7983778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanadaSora/pseuds/SanadaSora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just as the title says... kind of a random story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Randomly

“I don’t care! I don’t care what you or dad have to say! It’s my life!” I yelled.

I stood, fuming. My fist was clenched so tightly, my nail might have broken the skin in my palm. Heat and adrenaline were flowing through my veins, my face hot from   
anger. I could feel the tears rolling, but didn’t wipe them. I had tried to hide myself so much, that letting them fall was the only way I could truly accept myself for what I was. My own person, not just a title, or a representation.

People in the coffee shop now quieted down. We sat next to the clear walls that showed Seoul’s busy street. It was in the heart of the metropolis, downtown. Some people who walked by glanced over to see what was going on, some not even taking a second glance. People never seemed to care. Typical.

“I am not going back! I already told you what I wanted!” I shouted, beating my chest.

She had her signature icy gaze on. But I had grown too familiar with it. I learned to put on layers now, after 16 years. 

“Go ahead. Tell everyone how you feel. Your feelings don’t change what has already been decided.” 

She said curtly. Her face was composed, but she threw daggers thru her sharp, double-lidded eyes. Her mouth, which was curved downward from a scar she had, was set in a straight line. She emoted nothing other than apathy. She let out a sigh from the corner from her mouth, avoiding from contorting her face any more than she would want to, and with good reason. All that plastic surgery might ware off anyway. 

She stood, her posture as straight as a plank, her movements as elegant as ever. Her hair never seemed to move with her, all of them sticking strictly together. She walked over to the counter, pulled out from her LV bag her matching wallet, and payed the barista. He took the money nervously, and tried to get her change. She took out her cat shaped sunglasses, and walked off before he could give her the rest. She faced me before she left thought the door, holding her head high.

As she left, everyone seemed to return to what they were doing prior. I looked down at the table I was at, staring at her unfinished coffee. My hand gripped the hem of my jacket, my lips pursed in my mouth.  
I took the coffee, and went to the cash. 

“I’d like to pay for this.”

He looked at me for a second. “Sure.” He looked at the cup and tapped on his computer.  
“That’ll be 8 dollars.” 

I dug into my pocket to get me beat up wallet. The design was fading, some threads poking out, and the zipper basically broken. I pulled out a five, and a few coins.   
He shook his head. “You’re 3 dollars short.” 

I dug deeper, just for my hand to make more contact with fabric. I smiled nervously, hoping he would too. He didn’t.  
I looked through my wallet again, until I heard something slam on the counter. I looked up to see a long arm in a dark sleeved jacket. I followed it to a sharp jawline. 

“Here. That should be enough.” He brought his hand back down, his hand tucked into his pockets. He wore a flannel, and ripped black jeans. 

The barista nodded, counted the change he had out there, and put it in the register. He gave me a receipt, and I bowed to the guy who spared me some change. 

“Thank you. I’ll pay-“

He waved me off before I could finish my sentence. “It’s cool. Don’t.”

I nodded, biting the wall of my mouth. 

“Well goodbye.” I bowed again, turning to leave quickly. If there was one thing my step-mom never taught me, it was elegance. 

“Actually” he started. I stopped and turned to him. He had pitch black hair, his bangs covering his brows. His eyes were dark too, sharp. He jogged up to me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

Without saying anything else, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the shop. 

We bolted out of the store, and threaded through the huge crowd of people who were waiting to cross the street. I could barely see him because of all the other people we bumped into. I apologized as much as I could, and tried to pry myself away from his vice grip. We kept running, going thought a small alley. He finally let go, panting. 

“Yah!! Why did you do that!?” I shouted. I puffed air out of my nostrils. 

He looked at me, wiping his forehead. “What?”

“You just grabbed me and ran! That’s basically kidnapping!” I argued, pointing at my wrist. “I could sue you!”

He laughed. 

“Why are you laughing!?” I approached him, my anger leading me the way.

“So it is true.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Girls don’t sweat. They only glow, right?” he smirked, his hands reaching into his pockets. My brows knit together. Then it clicked. 

“How did you know I was a girl!?” I pulled my beanie down. 

He smiled. “The eyes give it away.” He pointed. “And the hips too.” He cleared his throat. 

I glared at him, covering myself.

“Ahh! Seriously, this jerk!” I squatted, taking off my hat. I messed up my hair, frustrated. 

I looked up to see him staring at me. “What now!?” I yelled.

“Why?” his face had a different expression. There was no trace of his smugness. It was a face I grew to hate. Everyone looked at me like that.  
I didn’t answer. I knew what he was asking. I got up, and pulled my hat back on. Even if I explained myself, he wouldn’t understand. He was a lucky one. I sighed and patted down my clothes. I began to walk back. But I was tugged back. I looked down at my arm, to his hand on it.

“Don’t walk away. I’ll go crazy if you do.” He was serious. Heat rushed to my face.

“Why should I tell you?” 

“Just talk. I’ll listen.” 

Silence. His gaze never wavered from mine. I looked up, avoiding the tears to begin to roll.

“My mom... she died in a car accident.” I began. His grip loosened. I didn’t look at his face. 

“I know, sad. I never met her though, so it’s not so bad. My dad remarried quickly after. Nothing was going to stop him from running the company. He didn’t show up at the funeral. I remember standing there, looking for a hand to hold onto. A kid should never have to feel like that, right?” 

“Then my step mom came and… things changed. I barely saw dad anymore. He would often be away abroad or in his office, slaving away at work. She made me do lessons after school; piano, ballet, writing, Mandarin and English. She said it was for my good.” I wiped my face. 

“This went on for a long time. Until one day, I heard it. They were dancing. I never saw anything like it. They looked like water, flowing in the make shift dance floor. 

After school, I would always walk by to see them again. I came so often that they let me dance too. It was fun. I remember laughing.” I scoffed. I tried to remember the last time I laughed. 

“I practiced in my room, listening to the radio, and making my own choreography to any song. But then, she caught me doing it. She screamed at me… and forced me to stop. She called it ridiculous. That was the first time I saw her face change. But I was stubborn-“

“Was? You? Stubborn?” He laughed. I punched his arm. 

“I kept on dancing. After school, I would go to see them, and told her I was at the library. She bought it for a while. I was… free. I could soar where I wanted, there were no limits. I would pack extra clothes so I could dance better. I went to this studio to audition for a competition. I came back late. I heard her screaming. I ran to see all the papers in dad’s study scattered, and she held his head on her lap. I called 911, and it seemed he collapsed from stress. His liver almost gave out too. He almost died.”

I paused. I looked down at my shoes.

“After, she started looking for suitors for me. They usually were snobs, only after my father’s legacy. Sounds like a drama, right? I always thought of it that way. But they just wanted me on the picture to get some of his money too, to take over the company when he died.”

He didn’t answer. I buried my face in my hands, and rubbed the excess tears. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be crying… I’m stupid.”

He grabbed my wrists away from my face. His expression was no longer of pity, but of something else; something brighter.  
His hand reached out and rubbed my cheek. It lingered there. I froze, not knowing what to do. 

“Don’t hide. There’s nothing wrong with showing how you feel.” He smiled, and so did his eyes. 

After that, I kinda broke down. I cried, not covering myself. I cried out loud, and long. 

“Ah! Crying girls are so annoying!” he whined.

“You’re the one who told me to cry! Jerk…!” I kept rubbing my eyes; I knew they were puffing up.

He ruffled my hair. I looked up to see him smiling, again. How?

“What?” he asked.

“Why are you doing this?”

He paused, thinking. He shrugged his shoulders. “Guys usually want to make cute girls happy. Or feel better.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. “You’re not funny” I mumbled.

He took a step closer. “I wasn’t joking.” He smirked. I tried to step back, but I struck against a wall. I looked over on one side, but his arm shot up against the wall, blocking my exit. 

“W-w-what are you doing!?” 

He leaned on closer, and I shut my eyes closed. I braced myself, only to feel his presence leave. I breathed out, not realizing I wasn’t. 

“What is she doing? Did she think I was going to kiss her? Wow, someone’s got a big ego!” he mocked. 

“You had an eyelash on your face, princess.” He began to saunter off. Something in me made me want to chase after him. How dare he just do that, and leave? 

He turned around. “Aren’t you coming?”

I did.


End file.
